It's the Little Things
by Annie Daynow
Summary: For his friend's 18th birthday, Noctis gives Prompto the most valuable gift the boy had ever received and will ever receive.


There's a young man standing in the doorway of the castle's private dining room. Well, Prompto couldn't really call him a _man_ yet; he was only older than him by a few months, taller by a few inches, and had a lush head of hair that any other male on the cusp of adulthood would have shaved off by age 14.

Nonetheless, what took Prom's attention away from his slice of red velvet cake was what the newcomer had with him. Try as he might to hide the gift behind his back, anyone would have noticed its garish red color and ivory ribbon from a mile away. It was a thin, lidded box, grand and important-looking, but not quite as grand and important as the boy who held it in his hands. And when their eyes met, Prompto's mouth mirrored the boy's wide grin.

"Happy late birthday, Prom," Noctis declared, and moved to settle himself in a chair next to his friend. Almost proudly he placed the gift on the table for the blonde to behold, and the blonde, looking as if he were taken aback, turned sideways in his chair to face Noctis and slid the gift into his lap.

"D'aww," he said, gazing at Noctis fondly. "I knew you weren't a cheap bastard!"

"Me, cheap?" Noctis echoed incredulously at that blow to his pride. "I picked out, paid for, and prepared that gift all on my own."

Prompto tugged at the intricate knot that sat snugly on the box's lid. "You even tied the ribbon?"

"Well, Ignis might've helped with that," Noct muttered. "But all that matters now is that I got you your present."

Prompto sucked in air through his teeth. "I dunno, Noct," he huffed. "Yesterday was a preeetty big day."

"I promise you, this gift will completely make up for it."

Prompto was just joking, of course. He himself was born of humble beginnings, and the prospect of spending another birthday without presents did not faze him one bit.

Not everyone shared that mindset, however, and for good reason. Turning 18 was a very big deal in Lucian culture. It was the driving age, the working age, the taking-your-first-shot-of-alcohol-while-your-parents-are-away age, and above all else a reminder to teary-eyed mothers and fathers everywhere that their kids were growing up.

And yesterday was Prompto's 18th, for the gods' sakes! How would it look if the prince of Lucis didn't give his friend a gift for one of the biggest milestones of his early life? Poor Noct was chastised by everyone from Ignis and Gladio to the castle servants for showing up to the party empty-handed.

"I'll be the judge of that," Prompto replied with a smirk. "Why'd you bring it today, though?" He eyed the prince dubiously. "Don't tell me you forgot until the very last minute?"

"Of course not," Noct retorted, but his tone quickly changed. "Well, not exactly. I just had no idea what to get you—"

"Excuses, excuses!"

"I'm serious! Then when I did find something, the company said that your stuff wouldn't be ready until today."

"Did you try pulling rank to make them go faster?"

Noct snorted. "Couldn't. Dad said it'd be a 'grievous misuse of my authority' and I had to wait like everyone else for not being 'punctual' and all that. I mean, it was for a good cause."

"You do it every other time anyways," Prom said in one of those mutters that was actually meant to be heard.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Noct growled playfully, clenching his fist for the blonde to see. "You know, I don't think Gladio and I have given you your royal _birthday punches_ yet."

Prom threw up his own hands in nervous defense. "No thanks! I think I'm still sore from two years ago." In an effort to change the subject, his attentions returned to the present. "What'd you get me, anyways?"

"Gee Prom, I don't know. Why don't you open it up like you're supposed to do with gifts?"

"Geez," Prompto whined at the sarcasm. "Can't a guy get a pass on his birthday?" But he set out to do just that: open it.

The gift was now placed under Prompto's utmost scrutiny. The box was flat and long in his hands, but light as a feather to hold. Prompto noticed an elegant Celtic knot design hidden underneath the box's ribbon, but the brand it belonged to he could not discern. Was it clothes? It _looked_ like clothes. He lifted the box to shake it, and, judging by the gentle pomf of its contents hitting against the cardboard walls, it sounded like clothes, too. And if it looked like clothes and sounded like clothes...

"Today, Prom," Noct said in good humor.

"Don't ruin the suspense!" Prompto hissed, but his fingers worked excitedly to loosen the ribbon. Slowly, surely, he lifted up the box's lid—

Then he just said "screw it" and thrust the lid back like a giddy fourth-grader. And much like a giddy fourth-grader, he was struck with ineffable awe, because what sat snuggled within thick layers of white gift tissue were not just boots, but _the_ boots.

Prom looked up at Noctis, caught the apprehensiveness in the boy's eye, and failed in trying to adjust his body language accordingly. Today the prince's happiness depended strongly on Prom's own happiness, and everything in the blonde's hard-eyed, silent, and unsmiling form must have suggested disappointment.

Noctis' hands toyed with the hem of his shirt. "You like it?" He asked tentatively. "They're custom-made. That's why they took so long."

Prompto ran his fingers along the shoes; their red soles, their short trim of pure white fur, the smooth, durable leather handcrafted by Etro herself. These were bona fide Louboutins sitting on his lap. And that was the problem.

Louboutin shoes were recognized throughout all of Eos for their high fashion, social significance, and nonpareil quality—as well as their nonpareil pricing. They were symbols of their wearers' wealth, fame, and importance, but Prompto had none of these things. He felt unworthy to even be in their presence, never mind wear them.

Oh, why did Noctis have to get him _Louboutins?_ He must have spent a fortune on them! By no means was Prompto ungrateful, but Noctis should _not_ have to feel obligated to spend so much money on him of all people.

Prompto's incredulous stare shifted from the gift to the giver. "Holy crap, Noct," he breathed. "Do you know how expensive these things are?"

Finally able to gauge his friend's worries, Noct's mind was set at ease. "Of course," he replied. "What about it?"

"How much did you spend on them?" Prom asked, disturbed by his friend's nonchalance.

"Oh, only about ten."

"Ten..." Prompto gesticulated slowly with his hand, inviting Noct to continue.

"Ten...double donuts."

" _Ten double donuts?_ " Prompto squawked, and he visibly winced at the crack in his voice. Some things never changed, even with age. "You can't go spending that kind of money on me!"

Noctis frowned. "Why not?"

Prompto fought to articulate his reasoning, but at that moment he was a stuttering mess. "Y-you just can't! You don't have to buy expensive stuff for me, alright? I love the gifts you give me every other year, but this—" He placed the box on the table and slid it back to Noctis. "This is one thousand gil we're talking here. I appreciate the thought, Noct. Really, I do. But I can't accept this." Awkwardly he rubbed at his own arm. "Just...why this?"

Noctis studied Prompto, long and hard, and the latter fully prepared himself for the backlash of his rejection. Hell, he was a brat, wasn't he? The guy goes out and spends a thousand on him and he can't even suck it up and say 'thank you.' But there would always be an unshakable feeling of wrongness he'd harbor for owning such a gift.

When Noctis finally did speak, Prompto was surprised at the gentle chiding in his tone. "Well, firstly," the prince began, listing things off with his fingers. "It's your eighteenth birthday. And secondly, because I wanted to."

Prompto blinked uncomprehendingly. "B-but, all that money—"

"Doesn't matter," Noctis cut in. "You know, for a guy in my position, one thousand gil is absolutely nothing. I'd spend a million on you if I could, even."

Prompto's face reddened at that, but Noctis remained as composed as ever, leaning back in his mahogany chair with his hands behind his head. Prompto realized just how differently a commoner and a royal viewed the value of money. He couldn't imagine being so casual with his spending power, when he had went through much of his life counting every little coin. He couldn't let Noct fall to such carelessness.

"But I'm always saying you don't have to buy me anything expensive," Prompto sighed. "I don't wanna take advantage of your friendship like this, just because you're able to pay for it."

Noctis grew even more perplexed. "How are you taking advantage of me?" he asked. "You didn't ask for the shoes at all, but I bought them anyway. You always ask for small things every year, but you know what? I wanted to do something special."

"But I'm not worth spending a thousand gil on!"

As soon as the words came out, Prompto instantly regretted them. He drew back, as if suddenly ashamed, and a fog of silence spread throughout the dining room.

Prompto mentally cursed at the oncoming trouble he had brought onto himself. He looked at Noctis, and wanted to look away from the boy's steely blue gaze just as quickly. The subject would not be dropped easily, he knew, for that gaze demanded answers.

Prom's explanation began with a heavy sigh. "It's just—people are always staring when we're together, like I'm not good enough to be around you, and they're right. I'm not rich or classy or worthy and everyone can tell. I can't do anything for you like Gladio and Ignis can. Plus, I'm pretty sure I'm bad for appearances." He laughed, but it did little to suppress the growing lump in his throat. "So no, you didn't have to buy the shoes. I haven't done anything to deserve them."

Noct worked his jaw, wanting to address many, many things said in his friend's little speech, but opted to start with the most glaring issue. "Worthy?" he echoed. "What makes you think you shouldn't be around me?"

Prompto shifted self-consciously in his seat. "'cause you're royalty," he mumbled, "and I'm...I'm just some poor kid from the city. I don't even know why you keep me around."

There. He'd said it.

It was only shortly after Prompto walked up to Noctis at start of their 9th grade year did the blonde realize he'd gotten much more than he bargained for. Being apart of the prince's life meant walking into the world of high society, and the grandeur of that society inundated him with its many expectations and standards that he couldn't dream to uphold. Even his fellow commoners and schoolmates realized it, with their quizzical whispers and scathing glares, wondering how someone cut from the same cloth as they had any more right to stand beside their future king. It left him with a lasting sense of not belonging. He was loud, unsophisticated, unskilled, and a plethora of other traits that were unbecoming of Lucian nobles, and for the next 4 years he felt that his presence was unwarranted and unwelcome.

But Noct wasn't supposed to know that. Prompto hated his silence and thus fell deeper into his despair.

When the prince finally spoke, his voice was calm:

"You know, I once asked my dad what was the point of sending me to a public school. Wouldn't it make more sense for me to get a private tutor? But his reason was that he wanted me to to be more _sociable,_ because that's a trait that all kings need to have, apparently. I was so sure I was going to hate it, and I honestly did for a little while. Hard to be sociable when the entire student body does nothing but fawn over you. But then you come along, talking and joking with me, saying stuff that would make other people want to drop dead before they ever said that to a royal. I know everyone stares and whispers, but honestly Prom, who cares?"

"You should," Prom muttered. "It's bad publicity."

"To who? The press?" Noct waved his hand in a swift to-hell-with-them gesture. "It's none of their business who I befriend. What does it matter that you're not rich? Should you instead be one of the other stuck-up Lucian elite kids who only brag about how much stuff their parents own? Or a brown-nosing sycophant who can do nothing but sing me praises? Everyone has been making up nasty stories about the royal family for centuries, but there is no law in Eos that can tell me who I can and cannot be friends with."

Noct's voice gradually grew louder, and his eyes were alight with an angry gleam. Prompto could only sit quietly, stunned by the boy's fervor.

"You could be dressed in rags, Prom, and I'd _still_ like you. Know why? Because you're approachable, you're loyal, you remember every little thing I tell you about myself, and you care about who I am and not what I am: a prince. I can forget that I even have duties to fulfill or responsibilities to uphold when I'm with you. You always cheer me up when I'm down, you're not afraid to call me out when I'm doing stupid crap, and you're so easy to talk to that I can just rant and blow off steam, like I'm doing right now. I'm sorry, I know you probably don't want to hear an entire sermon right now, but my point is that _I_ want you around, and you shouldn't let anyone else tell you otherwise."

Noct took in several deep breaths when his tirade concluded, rasping out additional 'sorry's for such an outburst of passion. But Prompto saw it as the most wonderful slap to the face he could've ever received. He appeared rigid and emotionless in his seat, but inside he felt a pleasant warmth flowing throughout his body that was, minutes before, cold and miserable with shame.

Looking back on it, Noctis had shown his care for Prompto a million times in a million different little ways. It was Noctis who placed his faith in him, who encouraged and assured him, who approached him and his silly fears with immortal patience and brushed away the stubborn chip on his shoulder that he had against himself. Somehow it had taken Noctis spelling it out for him to finally realize it.

At that moment Prompto felt relieved, childish, bratty, incredibly stupid, and most of all, loved.

Calmer now, Noctis continued. "Make no mistake, I love Gladio and Ignis to death. But it's so nice to have a friend who isn't also working for my family, you know? And out of all those other people, you're the only one to talk to me like I'm an actual person. That's the best feeling in the world. Just for that, I want to give my best friend something that shows him how much I appreciate him, but I don't think only shoes are going to be enough."

Prompto's eyes widened. "B-best friend?"

"You heard me," Noctis said. He lifted the gift from the table and presented it to Prompto once more. "Besides—Gladio, Igs, and I all have a pair of Lube-whatevers. It wouldn't be right if the last member of our clique didn't have one too. So, if you really do like them, take them!"

Prompto looked into Noct's pleading eyes, and was overcome with such emotion that he could almost cry. No, Noct, these were not just shoes. The very existence of the gift conveyed a message more precious to Prompto than anything that money could buy.

Prompto took the box from his hands. "Thank you, Noct," he rasped. "Just—thank you! I'm gonna take good care of these. I swear, _no more_ chocobo ranches—"

Noctis chuckled. "We both know you're not really giving that up."

Then Noct's arms began to open, which could have meant anything from the beginnings of a tired stretch to an invitation for a hug. Prom decided it was the latter. Placing the box on the table, he dove for his friend and wrapped him in his tightest embrace, as if its firmness could ever repay the prince for all he had done. And despite Noct's initial gasp of surprise at the contact, the blonde's hug was reciprocated.

"Noct?" Prompto suddenly asked.

"Yeah?"

"Could you buy me a car next?"

"Oh, shut up, Prom!"

Laughter reverberated throughout the dining room.

* * *

I was just perusing through pics of Prompto and suddenly I thought "there's no way this kid could have afforded those Louboutin shoes"

btw my own bday is coming up in a week so if anyone would like to buy me some $1000 louboutin heels I wouldn't say no :^)  
nah jk  
but not really  
no seriously jk


End file.
